Black Tie
by ficlit78
Summary: Set in A Price Above Rubies. Rigsby and Grace walk into the ballroom looking naughty and giggly. At a formal shindig? We all know what that means. M for mega-hot sexy time.


Author's Note: Set in _A Price Above Rubies. _Grace and Rigsby walk in. We ALL know what they'd been doing. Pretty nasty smut here, so heed.

**Black Tie**

"Oh, my God. Baby, harder…_please_!"

Rigsby clamped his hand over Grace's mouth while fulfilling her request and slamming himself forcefully between her bare thighs. Coats buffered her back and deadened the sound of their bodies ramming against the walls. He fought back a growl and buried his face in the soft curls of her hair and the delectable smell of her neck. She was whimpering behind his hand as he cinched her legs tighter around his partially-clad waist, his cock pistoning in and out in a desperate, unmeasured tempo. Her purple dress was hiked high around her waist and pooled between their joined bodies. He couldn't watch their frantic, driving hips, just like he hadn't seen her lack of panties until his questing fingers informed him of the fact, but fuck if both of those things didn't _feel _like heaven. His other hand was busy massaging her clit, making her twitch and shudder around him in the sexiest way imaginable. This had to be quick. But dammit, if he was going to fall, he was taking her with him.

Her lips parted under his hand and her tongue swiped a raw, wet line of outrageous invitation across his palm. His own mouth was instantly jealous. He removed his hand and tugged her chin upwards.

"Gimme," he ordered as he pressed his lips to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, wordlessly demanding the same treatment she gave his hand. Grace whimpered again and gladly stroked her tongue along the velvety line of his lips and teeth, basking in his dark, masculine taste and arching into his thrusting body in helpless submission. Her arms snaked up the wall behind her, knocking down silk wraps and shawls as she clasped onto the brass hooks and used them as leverage to grind harder into his lower half. She didn't want the temptation of ripping at his tux. His bow tie was begging her to tug it loose and the dark buttons on his crisp white shirt were asking to be popped to the floor as she tore the fabric apart. So she restrained herself. She attacked his mouth instead.

This was so wrong. So very inappropriate and very, _very_ reckless. Someone could walk in any second. They could be caught. Other cops were here. Bored, rich people with delicate sensibilities were here. Cops would tell other cops. Rich people would take umbrage at two agents fucking on their expensive coats and tell Lisbon. They should have waited. They should have found somewhere else, anywhere else.

Except she saw him walk in.

Except he saw her turn around with a martini in her hand.

Their hearts stopped together. One of them went hard and seeking. One of them went wet and trembling with need.

The coatroom was the best they could hold out for. The host should have been grateful they didn't take each other right there against the banister.

He hit a sweet spot deep in her womb with his brutal thrusts and she bit his lower lip to silence her cry. He snarled possessively, running his tongue along the bite mark and tasting blood. Christ, she drove him so crazy. Prim and proper and sipping a martini one minute, wet and wild and drawing blood as they fucked against a wall the next. His girl. _His._

"Say my name," he hissed at her, propelling her into the tweed and wool behind her. Her inner muscles clenched him, his eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

"Wayne," she whispered in the breathy, sexy voice he'd become so addicted to. The filthiest words and most incapacitating pleas had called to him in that voice. It was the only sound in the world capable of turning him from a straight-laced, rule-bound nice guy into a rebellious, rutting animal. He could heedlessly fuck for hours, he just needed that voice and it was all but inevitable.

But there was no time now.

He pressed against her little bundle of nerves, then dipped his fingers into her sweet lubrication and brought them back, teasing her harder until she pressed her lips together and keened in a strangled, muffled cry.

"You gonna come for me? My wet, tight little sweetheart? You gonna ride my cock and fingers and just lose it? Come on, I want to feel you. I want your pussy squeezing me so hard that I forget where I am. Come on, baby. Let go." His whispering stole her breath. She was gasping, rising up. She was so close. She slammed her lips into his and moaned loudly into the cavern of his mouth, hoping to lose the echo deep inside him. She was fluttering. She was cresting. He broke free.

"Every time I raise my glass to my lips, I want to smell your delicious scent on my hand."

Her right hand shot to the back of his head and crashed her lips to his a split-second before she screamed. The vibrations filled his skull as her core clasped and pulled him inward. It was more than any man could take and exactly what every man could ever want.

Rigsby squeezed his eyes shut and roared against her lips as he came ferociously and dizzyingly hard. The most intense pleasure he'd ever known spiked in his heart and brain and crashed through his bloodstream before it jettisoned violently from between his thighs and into the woman he loved. Grace sobbed quietly against him, her legs twitching around his hips as electrical current rode through her veins. His head fell against her shoulder as he gasped quietly, kissing the perfect skin at the base of her throat. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her.

Her eyes were closed as she smiled guiltily, still trying to catch her breath. "So are you."

They shivered against each other as a voice singing _Danny Boy_ serenaded the crowd in the other room. He pulled himself up, smiling softly as he disengaged and set her down gently. "We need to get back."

Grace, still shivering, nodded as she self-consciously smoothed out her dress and ran a finger around her mouth, wiping away any smudged lipstick. "I know."

Rigsby patted his pockets until he found his handkerchief and offered it to her with shy eyes. She looked at his offering before looking at him questioningly. He dropped his eyes in adorable and completely unneeded modesty.

"For…if you want it for between your legs."

Grace chuckled softly and pulled at his lapels, dragging him closer. "A man who wants my pussy to squeeze him until he forgets where he is and wants my scent on his hand is suddenly too shy to say where I should use a hankie?"

Color rose to his cheeks and she grinned. "Say it, Wayne. I like your voice when you say it."

He inhaled sharply, his eyes growing dark as he silently pressed her into the wall again. There wasn't an inch to spare between them.

"Pussy," he growled softly. "If you want to wipe the come from your pussy."

Their gaze held and Grace nodded slightly. "The other one too. Say it," she whispered.

Rigsby leaned down closer, their lips almost touching. "Cunt," he rasped quietly.

Grace smiled. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" She kissed him slowly, whispering against him. "I beg for your cock every night. You won't insult me by using those words, baby."

Rigsby nodded, his lips switching up and down with the movement. "All right. So do you want it? My hankie?"

Grace pushed him back and cleared her throat, running her hand down her dress and over her hair. "No," she said simply. As he let her pass him on the way to the door, she murmured, "I want you to look at me all night and know that your come is wetting my thighs."

For the rest of the night, Rigsby's smile of smug territoriality had Grace trembling with pleasure and Jane chuckling softly to himself.


End file.
